Page 5 of Full Service

The man stepped closer and into my vision. I still couldn’t quite make out his features because his own headlights were so bright behind him, but I heard him chuckle, a deep and foreboding chuckle that made me shiver in…fear? Anticipation? I didn’t know.

“Hywel Prentis, now there’s a face I haven’t seen in a while.”

Fuck.I pushed myself away from the car and fully into the rain to get a better view of whoever it was. The voice was vaguely familiar, but I didn’t quite recognise it.

“Forgive me for asking, but who are you? I don’t mean to be rude…”

“Well, that doesn’t sound like Hywel Prentis, that car crash must have really fucked you up.”

The owner of the voice must have passed closer to my car headlights, because I could make him out more clearly now. He had russet-brown hair and a well-groomed beard, but the rain had slicked his hair back. The headlights highlighted grey eyes and pale skin. He was wearing a black leather jacket and a burgundy V-neck that revealed a flat expanse of chest. He was glaring at me in anger but was still unmistakably beautiful.Fuck.I racked my brain but still I couldn’t place him. How did this gorgeous biker-type man know me but I didn’t know him?

He took a step forward, and I realised we matched in height almost exactly. He must have been an inch taller than my six feet if that. “Hywel? You still in there?” he asked.

“Yes, sorry. No harm done, as they say. I’ll be on my way…”

I made my way back to my car, but he grabbed at my elbow with one big hand. I looked down at it and up again at his face. He was impassive, but I knew there was a flicker of anger behind his eyes.

“Get in my car. Yours isn’t going anywhere tonight.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I muttered. I didn’t want to go anywhere with this gruff, handsome stranger. I didn’t know if my heart was beating so fast because of proximity to him or the adrenaline of the crash.

“No, it won’t be.” He pulled me firmly but gently around to the side of my car buried in the hedge. The one headlight was definitely out, but when he pulled his phone out and shone the torch at the side of the car I could have cried. The driver’s side of the bonnet had crumpled on impact with a stone distance marker buried in the hedge. I could just about make outHiraeth - 5 mileson the marker.I was so close.

“For fuck’ssake,” I said to no one in particular. “After everything fucking else today, there’s this. Can’t catch a fucking break.”

“Enough fucks there?” The man’s voice was tinged with amusement.

“Well I’ve just about run out of fucks to give,” I said. There was a rising tide of emotion inside me that I did my best to tamp down. The only emotions I ever showed in business were smug and more smug. Anything else just wouldn’t do.

“Right, help me push your car back. I think you missed the lay-by by about six feet.”

Knowing how close I’d been to avoiding the collision made me feel even more stupid. I could have had both hurt or killed because of my stupidity. In silence, we both pushed the car back into the lay-by where the lane widened. Without asking he jumped into the passenger side, pulled up the handbrake and turned my remaining headlight off. In the darkness, it wa shard to see just how bad the damage was. But I knew it was bad.

“That car was—is, a beauty,” he said.

“My pride and joy,” I muttered.

“That’s tomorrow’s problem,” he said. “Have you got luggage?”

Despite his words belying some kind of care, his tone told me he didn’t give a shit either way. It was like being cared for by a robot, or babysat by a teenager who’d do anything for a fiver. I nodded and went to the boot of the car to grab my bag. Without asking, he pulled it from my hands.

“Lock up your car.”

I did so, finally turning to his. I walked toward the bright headlights. Despite my vanity purchase I wasn’t exactly a car expert so all I could ascertain was that it was a little 90s box car, in what looked to be blue but could be another colour by daylight.

The passenger door side door opened and the interior light came on. The man was leaning over to open the door and he’d taken his leather jacket off. I climbed into the car, which had racing-style bucket seats, and pulled the door closed behind me.

Silence was king. Neither of us spoke, and the tension in the air was palpable. I jumped slightly when he turned the key in the ignition and the car roared to life underneath us.

“You still don’t have a fucking clue who I am, do you?” he asked. He put his foot to the pedal and peeled off comfortably into the country lanes.

I studied him. With his sleeves uncovered now I could see that both arms, bound with muscle, were covered in tattoos. Random colourful illustrations covered them almost entirely and I could hardly see any skin through them. I looked upward then, and studied his face again. In the dim, consistent light of the car and up close I could tell he was just as gorgeous as I’d thought outside. He had obviously run his hands through his hair now as it was all messed up and water dripped from it onto the back of his neck. There was something about him that was familiar but it felt so far away.

“Done looking yet?” he asked without turning his head toward me, and something in his surly tone unlocked memories long since buried. I almost audibly gasped as the realisation hit me.

“Mac?” I asked. “Macsen Lloyd? Gruff’s brother?”

“The very same,” he said. He still hadn’t smiled, and I wondered what had kept the surly teenager I’d once known just as surly now as an adult. The beard and tattoos were new, and he certainly wasn’t as lanky as the last time I’d seen him. He’d filled out well.

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